Prototypical Love

by jensung

Summary:

In the age of technology, it wasn’t uncommon to see robots roaming the streets, or standing behind the cashier at old retail stores. They were everywhere humans were, and everything they are. It was impossible to tell person from robot, robot from person, because they were so perfectly modelled after their authentic counterparts.

Huang Renjun wakes up on his seventeenth birthday to find a dark-haired boy with crescent moon eyes in his kitchen, and suddenly his world is turned upside down as his perspective of love and machines is changed forever.

Chapter 1: Chapter One

"do I dare

disturb the universe?

in a minute there is time

for decisions and revisions which a minute will tell in reverse"

— T.S. Eliot

In the age of technology, it wasn’t uncommon to see robots roaming the streets, or standing behind the cashier at old retail stores. They were everywhere humans were, and everything they are. It was impossible to tell person from robot, robot from person, because they were so perfectly modelled after their authentic counterparts. Their synthetic skin was as soft and plush as a human’s, but a thousand times more a durable. Their hair was silky or curly and they could, if wanted, be warm and soft and so, so real.
And Renjun absolutely, completely hated it. He hated the city he lived in, the picture perfect crystalline structures and cramped, perfectly identical apartments that lined the city streets of New Seoul. He hated the perfectly trimmed bushes and trees that lined the sidewalk and the perfect view from his family’s unit—aka apartment—window, the way the city seemed to beautiful, peaceful under the light of the waning moon. He hated perfection, and yet he was suffocated by it.

Huang Renjun woke up on the 23rd of March, his seventeenth birthday, to the sound of glass shattering in the other room. He woke up with a blinding headache, knocking over the pills on his nightstand as he blindly reached for his phone, checking the time with a quick glance, before letting his head fall back to his pillow, groaning.

7:00 am.

Renjun forced himself out of bed, pulling on a shirt. He liked the feeling of the air conditioning in his apartment washing over his bare skin as he slept, the sensation of cool silk against his body. He ran his fingers through his hair as he pushed through his bedroom door, the dark strands still wet from the shower he’d taken last night.

“Mo—”

Renjun’s words were instantly lost at the sight of a teenage boy standing in his kitchen.

“Uhh…” Renjun stammered intelligently.

He was suddenly overly aware that he was currently standing in his boxers in front of a total stranger. A really cute stranger.

The boy cocked his head to the side, dark eyes looking Renjun up and down. His hair was dark, almost pitch black, and his eyes were even blacker, but shone like they held stars in his pupils. His skin was pale, but smooth and honey-like. He was a little taller than Renjun, maybe by just a few inches, and he was more muscular, yet lean and boyish, like the body of a soccer player. He looked around Renjun’s age, and Renjun had absolutely no idea what he was doing in the middle of his kitchen at 7:00 am on his birthday.

“Who are you?” he choked out. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

The boy’s eyes were wide, intense, but a strange shadow hung over his face, an odd sort of blankness lingering in his inquisitive gaze.

“I am JN Issue 0423.” he said. “You must be the youngest of the Huang residence.”

He stuck out a hand. Renjun gawked at him “You’re… a robot?” he said in disbelief. “Why?”

He looked confused, dropping his hand to his side. “I’m sorry, I do not understand the question.”

Someone laughed behind him, and Renjun turned to see his parents behind him, matching grins adorning their bright faces. His mother engulfed him in a tight hug, pulling him to her chest.

“I see you’ve met your birthday present.” his father chuckled.

“Happy birthday sweetheart!” she said, pressing kisses to his forehead, which Renjun unsuccessfully tried to dodge.

“What?” Renjun winced when his voice cracked. “You got me… a robot. For my birthday.”

His parents frowned slightly, and his mother stepped forward. “Why not? Look at him. He’s pretty cute.”

Renjun flushed, shaking his head. “That’s not the point!” he exclaimed, his frustration rising. “I hate robots! You know that!”

Behind him, the robot was silent, unmoving. His eyes were stony, and to Renjun, they just looked blank, empty, unseeing. No matter how real robots looked, they were made up of programmed responses, programmed emotions. Nothing about them was real; they just looked real. They were the perfect likeness, the kind of quintessential imitation that Renjun saw everywhere around him, that Renjun had always hated.

He was a machine, an emotionless knock-off only capable of the imitation of his namesake. He was a robot.

But his mother would never give up. She had always wanted a robot, after all. They were easy to keep around the house, like little pets that did the dishes, and cooked dinner, and offered support without the emotional burden of judgment looming over their master. Expensive, but a good investment in the long run, if you were into that kind of thing. Renjun, however, definitely wasn’t.

“But Jun,” she said softly, edging forward to place a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. “Think of it. He’ll be so nice to have around the house. He can even help you with your homework!”

Renjun really didn’t want to say yes.

His mother looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Renjun, we’d be able to spend more time together, as a family. I know you’ve been wanting that, honey.”

It was true. His parents both worked long hours, and the little time they had when they got home was consumed by trivial tasks, like going to the grocery store, cleaning the apartment, calculating the electric bill or cooking dinner, and it would be so much easier if they had someone else to do it for them.

“But if you really don’t want it, then we can return him and you can buy something else with the money.”

Renjun groaned. His mother had won. “Fine, fine. We’ll keep him.”

His parents grinned, obviously ecstatic. “That’s great, Injun! You’ll love him no time, I promise.” his father said.

Renjun scoffed, but said nothing.

“He needs a name, doesn’t he?” his mother mused, walking up to the robot. “He can’t just be JN Issue 0423 forever.”

“Renjun, do you have any ideas?”

“If he’s so smart, shouldn’t he be able to give himself a name?” he retorted. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and the way the robot’s eyes were following him was unnerving.

Renjun’s mother clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Come on. You must have something, sweetheart. He’s your robot; you should name him.”

Renjun looked at him again. Now that he was closer, he could see the more intricate details, the humanistic facets added to make him seem more real. Under his right eye was a small, faint mole, like a lone star decorating his fair skin. His eyelashes were long and dark, brushing his high, sharply cut cheekbones with every measured blink. His hair was black, and it looked soft, almost silky. Renjun had an inexplicable urge to run his fingers through it. He wore a clean, simple white t-shirt, standard issue cuffed blue jeans and sneakers, the same outfit every new robot came with. Renjun frowned, biting his lip.

“Maybe…” he trailed off. “Maybe Jeno. I think Jeno fits him.”

His mother grinned, clapping her hands together in glee. “Perfect!”

The robot, Jeno, cocked his head to the side, staring at Jeno with those dark, unreadable synthetic eyes. “Is that what you wish to name me?” he asked. “Jeno?”

Renjun nodded. “Yes.”

Jeno gave him a perfect smile, lined with perfect, shining teeth. “Then I will respond to that name when you require me, Renjun.” he turned to Renjun’s parents. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Renjun’s father smiled. “Why don’t you continue washing the dishes, Jeno.”

Jeno nodded, and returned to his place in front of the sink.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Renjun’s mother said, handing him a tablet. “Here, this is the power control for Jeno. Dad and I tried to figure this all out before your birthday. We know that you don’t necessarily like robots, so we pretty much didn’t manufacture his personality at all. It’s completely unique.”

That was a little comforting, at least. At the moment of purchase, buyers could choose what they wanted their robot to look like, how they would act, how they dressed, etcetera. Or, a customer could choose more basic, vague characteristics that the robot could build themselves off of, leaving a fraction of their make-up up to chance. Then, the company from which they were buying would manufacture a robot based on those choices. Renjun’s parents had obviously chosen the latter, which meant that Jeno was essentially a blank sheet of paper, made from scratch. It was up to Renjun to paint Jeno’s picture, to shape his future and how he would act. Renjun supposed it was better than the alternative. It made Jeno seem a little less synthetic.

“Thanks.” he said. “I appreciate it, Mom, really.”

She smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately with one hand. “Oh, your friends just buzzed in downstairs. You might want to get dressed. You’re going out with them today, right?”

Renjun’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering the birthday plans he’d made with his friends. “What?! Mom, I’m in my underwear!”

She laughed, patting his shoulder. “Go. I’ll let them in and keep them company while you get ready.”

 

When Renjun was finished, his friends were already standing in the living room, crowding around Jeno, prodding at his synthetic skin and marveling at how real it seemed. They brightened as they noticed Renjun coming in, and he was immediately engulfed in a tight hug from none other than Na Jaemin.

Renjun had known Jaemin since he moved to New Seoul from the rugged streets of Old Beijing at the age of five. His parents had found it tough to move so far from their home, where they’d grown up, but the air quality had become awful, suffocating and dirty and unhealthy. They couldn’t raise a child there, so they moved to the pristine, renovated city of New Seoul, where the buildings were comprised of wide, spacious family units, made of only the highest quality material, a clean white. Even the colors were better in New Seoul. At night, Renjun loved to turn the ambience lights in their apartment unit to a mellow purple, or soft blue. Renjun loved colors. It was something he sometimes missed about Old Beijing: bright, bold colors, streets shadowed in neon shades of purple and red, like a painting from the Old World itself. Everything in New Seoul was bright. The sky was blue and clear, and the synthetic-grown trees and bushes were bright and healthy. Spotless white skyscrapers reached high into the sky, and the streets were clean from trash and filth, unlike the streets in the cut-off, poverty-stricken district of Old Seoul. Renjun had met Jaemin just a few weeks after his family’s admission clearance in New Seoul had been confirmed, and he’d moved into the unit complex across the street from Jaemin. They’d found each other on the streets first, playing with a holo-ball while their parents talked, and had been ecstatic when they’d discovered they attended the same school. Since then, they’d been inseparable.

“Happy birthday, Injun!” Jaemin yelled into his ear, making Renjun flinch, and push him off, laughing.

“Hey, Jaemin.” he said, grinning.

Donghyuck and Yukhei were next. They both enveloped Renjun in a short, warm hug, before stepping back, smiling brightly as they congratulated him for turning seventeen, which, Donghyuck told him, was the best age, because Renjun could finally be considered a dancing queen. Yukhei moved next to Jaemin, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, which made Renjun roll his eyes in mock disgust.

Renjun had met Lee Donghyuck first. He’d met him at school with Jaemin, and the three of them had instantly bonded. Donghyuck had a strange fascination with robots, and often made fun of Renjun for his aversion to all things robotic. Yukhei was Renjun’s cousin, whose family had followed his from New Beijing a couple years ago. Renjun and his cousin had always been close, but Yukhei really hit it off with Jaemin, and soon, Renjun’s high school years began consisting of numerous uncomfortable situations in which he walked in on his cousin and his best friend making out in various janitor’s closets.

And then, there was Mark Lee.

Otherwise known as Huang Renjun’s only and biggest weakness. Mark was the only kind of perfect Renjun could tolerate. He had dark hair, wide brown eyes that were often adorned with circle glasses, and he was a few inches taller than Renjun. He was, like Jaemin, on their school’s volleyball team, and many of the games Renjun attended were spent watching the way Mark’s calf muscles flexed as he jumped, how sweat dripped from his neck, or how he smiled when their team won. Like Yukhei, Mark was in the grade above Renjun, Jaemin, and Donghyuck, a senior at their high school.

Renjun had the fattest crush on Mark Lee, and only Jaemin knew about it.

“This is pretty cool.” Mark said, inspecting Jeno. He was poking and prodding at him. “It seems so real.”

“Yeah.” Renjun said bitterly. “He’s alright.”

“What’s his name?” Jaemin asked eagerly, sidling up next to Renjun.

“Jeno.”

Donghyuck wrinkled his nose. “Really? Weird name.”

Renjun halfheartedly stuck his tongue out at Donghyuck, but all he could focus on was the wonder in Mark Lee’s pretty eyes as he asked about Jeno.

 

His friends were loud in Mark’s car. They blasted old hits and screamed at the top of their lungs, making Renjun’s ears ache, but as long as they were having fun, he was too.

“You don’t seem to like Jeno that much, Injun.” Donghyuck said from the front seat. “Are you really still in that ‘hating robots’ phase?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him.” Renjun argued. “I just don’t like robots.”

“Why?” Yukhei asked. “They’re useful. We had an older model back in Old Beijing. Luhan was nice. And really pretty, too.”

Jaemin smacked him.

Renjun sighed. “Their ‘usefulness’ is the problem.” he said. “Eventually, they’re going to be so useful that we won’t need to hire actual humans for jobs, anymore. We won’t need accountants or clerks or police officers at all. The construction industry is already dead, anyway.”

“We still have architects.” Mark said.

“Yeah, but we don’t have construction workers. Not human ones, at least. They’re all robots.”

Mark shrugged. “You have a point.”

But Donghyuck wasn’t done. “Still, what’s so wrong about robots in the household? You basically have a new brother, Renjun. Also, the use of robots practically saved what’s left of the natural land. We use significantly less natural resources than the Old World.”

“Not to mention,” Jaemin added, “over-population definitely isn’t as much of an issue now as it was back then.”

Renjun stomach rolled. “Marrying robots is hardly something for us to brag about.” he hissed. “It’s—it’s just odd. They don’t actually have feelings. It’s just their looks people are attracted to.”

Donghyuck twisted in his seat. “You know, scientists have said that recent robots’ synapses have been modeled so similarly to humans’ that they probably experience emotions the same way we do. In other words, they’re basically human. The only difference is what they’re made of.”

“Modeled, Hyuck. They’re supposed to be like humans. It’s what they’re made for. Doesn’t mean they’re the same as us.”

Donghyuck scowled, but he turned forward in his seat. “Okay, Renjun. Just agree to disagree. It’s you that has the robot, after all. Not me.”

Renjun suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. Mark was glancing back at him through the rearview mirror, his brows drawn down in a slight frown.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” he offered, giving a Donghyuck a slight smile. Donghyuck grinned back, then went back to talking to Mark.

“Damn, Injun.” Jaemin chuckled. “Tone it down a bit.”

Renjun glared at him, and Jaemin shut up.

 

The rest of Renjun’s birthday went well. He ate with his friends at the third floor bistro in downtown New Seoul, played laser tag down the street, strolled in the (artificial) garden around the corner of his apartment. He also visited the mall and bought clothes for Jeno. His friends had laughed at him for buying clothes for something he’d just claimed he didn’t want, but he argued that if Jeno was going to stay in his house, he might as well look pretty while doing it.

His parents were fussing over Jeno when he got home, greeting him swiftly before turning their attention back to the robot.

“What’s up?” Renjun said, dropping his stuff on the kitchen table and standing in front of the couch, where his parents and Jeno were currently sitting.

“We’re just figuring how he works.” his father said. Jeno watched him as he talked. “The mechanics of it and all that.”

“How do we turn him off?”

His mother gave him a look, before gently grabbing Jeno’s jaw and turning his head to the right, reaching a finger and pressing the delicate skin just behind his ear. Jeno eyes closed and he stiffened, his back straightening and suddenly he was still, unmoving.

Okay, that was easy.

Renjun’s mom seemed to know what he was thinking. “No, you cannot just turn him off all the time. We didn’t buy a robot for it to just sit in the cupboard all its life.” she said, turning Jeno back on.

“It doesn’t have a life.” Renjun muttered under his breath.

Jeno’s eyes seemed to bore into his soul.

 

 

It was difficult getting used to Jeno at first, for everyone in the Huang family. For one thing, their lack of choice in the manufacturing of their robot resulted in several unexpected incidents. First, one of Jeno’s designed characteristics was that he was a little bit clumsy. The plate he’d broken on his first day was far from the last. He was a great cook, though. Second, it gave everyone a shock to see him in the middle of the night on their regular midnight trek for a glass of water, sitting straight up as he self-charged, eyes closed only for the sanctity of their human minds.

Really, it was just hard having someone else, or something else, in the house. It had been just the three of them for so long, and seeing Jeno in the morning was a startle for them all.

Despite that, however, Renjun’s parents seemed to have fallen in love with the robot. Renjun’s mother cooed at Jeno whenever he did something she thought was cute, which was usually when he learned something new. Renjun just thought it was odd how convincing the robot was. His eyes brightened whenever he received praise of any kind while interacting with people, held casual conversations that somehow managed to hold no opinions whatsoever, and smiled in a way only a human boy should be able to smile, dark, moon-like eyes curving into crescents.

He was so real, that Renjun sometimes forgot that the boy in his living room was a robot. That scared him the most.

For the most part, Renjun was good at avoiding him. Jeno barely spoke without being prompted, and all Renjun had to say for him to go away was “no” to whatever question he was asking. In the few weeks he had been living with them, Renjun had hardly said more than one word at a time when speaking to him.

But robots worked in mysterious ways, and Renjun’s supposed luck only lasted so long.

Renjun was painting. He was painting with watercolors, a holo-screen set in front of him for reference. He painted with the blues and greens of the ocean and danced with the pinks and reds of the dying sun as it set across the sky.

He didn’t even hear the door open behind him.

“What are you painting?”

“God—” Renjun jolted in his seat, a hand flying to his heart as he steadied his breathing before swiveling around. Jeno was standing behind him, looking guilty.

“I startled you.” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Uh, no, it—it’s fine.” Renjun stuttered. “No worries. What were you asking?”

Jeno pointed to his canvas. “I was wondering what you are painting. But it looks like you are painting the sky.”

Renjun let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, turning back to his work. “I’m painting the sunset, and the ocean, actually.”

“The ocean.” Jeno said simply, edging closer, until his arm brushed Renjun’s shoulder. His eyes were flicking back and forth between the holo-screen and Renjun’s painting. He looked oddly fascinated.

“I would like to see the ocean.” Jeno said softly. “It seems beautiful.”

Renjun frowned slightly. “You’ve seen the ocean though, haven’t you? It’s all in your database.”

Jeno shook his head, and Renjun’s breath caught in his throat as he locked eyes with the robot.

“I’ve seen pictures and videos and I know of the ocean, but I have never seen or touched it. Seeing and knowing of things is different than feeling them, I think.”

Jeno’s eyes were dark, his lips pursed in a thoughtful pout. He looked lost, yearning, almost cute. Scratch that, Renjun thought, really cute.

“I have seen the sunset.” Jeno admitted. “It’s beautiful. Your art captures it well.”

Renjun blushed, but he waved the compliment off. “You’ve seen the sunset? When?”

“I watched the sky alone while you and Mr. and Mrs. Huang were away.”

Renjun felt something ugly stir in his stomach. “You watched your first sunset… alone?”

Jeno nodded. “Yes. I’ve said that already.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t feel sadness. It was pretty.”

There was that word again: feel. It seemed to follow Renjun everywhere.

“Are there things you haven’t seen that you want to?” Jeno suddenly asked. “Because I can show you, if you want.”

Renjun’s eyes widened.

“I can’t help you feel, but I can help you see.”

Renjun stood up. “The stars.” he said. “I—I haven’t seen them, really except for pictures. We can’t seem them because of the light. It’s… It’s all just black.”

Jeno nodded, grabbing Renjun’s hand and leading him to the bed, sitting down on the mattress. “Close your eyes.” he said.

Renjun did, and within a few seconds, his world was filled with stars. Renjun was standing in a field, grass tangling around his ankles, and above him, the dark expanse was dotted with silver. The sky shone with a million of the tiniest moons, bright and blinding and the most beautiful thing Renjun had ever seen. It took his breath away, a mere image stealing all the breath from his lungs.

It disappeared in a flash, and suddenly he was back in his room, sitting on his bed with a robot named Jeno sitting across from him.

“How…” Renjun gasped. “How did you do that?”

Jeno shrugged. “I just reflected the image in my database onto your brain. It’s similar to what you call virtual reality, in some way.”

Jeno suddenly became sheepish, looking away from him. “Technically, I’m not supposed to do that.”

“What do you mean?” Renjun asked.

Jeno tapped the side of his head. “It’s locked away.” he said. “I’m not supposed to be able to access that specific feature just yet. But… I wanted to show you.”

“Why?” Renjun pushed.

Jeno smiled softly. “I thought you’d think it’s pretty, like the sunset. Was it not?”

“No, no, it was beautiful.” Renjun reassured him. “It’s just… I’m… I don’t know.”

“You do not like me.” Jeno suddenly said.

Renjun’s blood chilled. “That’s… not true.” he muttered. “I don’t like robots. It’s nothing personal.”

“Isn’t it?” Jeno said.

“It’s not like you’re even capable of caring what I really think.” Renjun snapped.

Jeno stood up. “I hope you liked the stars, Renjun. I hope they were beautiful to you.”

He smiled, his eyes curving into the carved crescents of a waning moon, and then left, shutting the door softly behind him.

 

Renjun started a new drawing. He started with the eyes, black as night, with irises that held whispers of burning stars.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

You, created only a little lower than

The angels, have crouched too long in

The bruising darkness,

Have lain too long

Face down in ignorance.

— Maya Angelou

Since the advent of the new age of technology, one rule had always been the same: robots could not and would not harm a human being in any way other than in defense of another human, or they would receive a card swipe, their memory erased and body dismantled, robotic parts redistributed to wherever required, albeit at a lower price.

Renjun had seen it happen twice, once in Old Beijing, and once in New Seoul, just a year ago.

 

The first time, in Old Beijing, Renjun had been just four, barely old enough to remember. It had been a rogue android, an older model, a rare circumstance. It’d had its sinewy arms wrapped around a man’s neck, his skin turning purple as he was deprived of oxygen. The robot’s eyes had flashed with red, and then his head had turned, and his blinding gaze had locked with Renjun’s. They had burnt into Renjun like fire, and it had been the first time Renjun’s little four-year-old body had ever experienced such bone-chilling fear, setting the hair on the back of his neck on end.

 

An officer had quickly stepped up to the robot and jabbed a small specialized pen into the space of the small of its back, and the robot had collapsed, its eyes burning out with the speed of a dying match.

 

There had been nothing but the coldest red Renjun had ever seen lingering in the robot’s eyes, and it had stayed with him forever.

 

The second time was when Renjun was sixteen, a year ago, in the streets of the most pristine renovated city of Asia. He remembered it vividly because of the way he’d been knocked over by the force of the robot as he’d crashed into him, bulleting down the alleyway at the speed only an artificial human could achieve. He’d been knocked straight on his back, staring up at the creature on top of him.

 

He’d expected the same red eyes of the robot from his youth, but instead all he saw were the pale hazel irises of the perfect imitation of humanity staring down at him. Her lashes had been a dark brown, arching over wide eyes. They had flitted over Renjun’s face, and if one looked very closely, they would have seen what Renjun had: the almost imperceptible vagueness of her gaze, the way her eyes dazed in and out, as if reading something, data, that only she could see. That was one, less known, way people commonly identified a robot. Usually, it became apparent once they were heard speaking, or just the way they were so perfectly beautiful, the way their skin shone under pale lights and their eyes sparkled in ways human girls had spent decades trying to imitate in the past. Or sometimes, like the girl on top of him, you could tell by the insignia tattooed just on the inside of their hipbone, barely visible above the waistband, and often used to identify wanted robots. The girl had a distinct flower tattooed on her hipbone, which Renjun had seen when her shirt rode up as she’d pushed herself off of him, and he’d instantly recognized her as the rogue robot police had been chasing for nearly two years for the murder of her buyer, a slip that New Seoul was still trying to rectify.

 

It wasn’t common, for a robot to “malfunction”. At least, that was what the government always said. Either that, or they were really good at covering it up.
In a way, Renjun had helped catch her. His distraction had been the only thing needed for the cops to catch up, for the pen to be jabbed In her lower back, and for her to crumble to the floor, wide eyes open and unseeing. For a moment, Renjun had thought that the echoes of a plea might have remained a millisecond past her capture, but he had wished the thought away.

 

For some reason, her eyes had unsettled him even more than the red ones from the robot from Old Beijing.

 

There was the outline of a crescent moon on Jeno’s hipbone, and Renjun thought it was strangely fitting for a robot with eyes like to Jeno to be marked with the moon. He’d seen it on the robot license that Jeno had arrived with, issued as his ID with a copy for the Huang family, and later on Jeno himself, when he’d reached for a plate in the cupboards and Jeno’s shirt had ridden up a few inches. He’d only a seen a portion of the mark tattooed on Jeno’s synthetic skin, but he’d still blushed, and looked away.

 

Things were awkward, but Renjun thought it was probably just him who was making it weird. He felt terrible that Jeno knew how he felt about robots, how he felt about having him in his home, but there was nothing he could do about it, and Jeno had been acting as ridiculously kind as always, soft and compliant. He’d let Renjun’s father tinker with his settings, after which he’d meowed like a cat for an hour until Renjun’s mother had finally fixed him. They’d chuckled and cooed over Jeno’s shy eyes, while Renjun had sat on his couch and tried to read, as the soft lights of the city’s night life passed over him.

 

His parents made it impossible to avoid Jeno.

 

Renjun groaned in frustration, reading the same paragraph for the third time before he gave up and slammed the textbook shut.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed.

 

His bedroom door opened behind him, and he spun around to see Jeno standing in his doorway, holding a plate topped with apple slices and wide, startled eyes.

 

“Do you need… help?” said Jeno hesitantly.

 

Renjun sighed as Jeno took a seat at the edge of his bed, shifting forward to look at Renjun’s paper after offering him an apple slice, which he declined.

 

“What are you having trouble with?” he said. He got almost uncomfortably close, close enough that—if he were an older model—Renjun would’ve been able to hear the gears turning in his manufactured head, his perfectly wired brain.

 

Renjun moved away to give Jeno a better view, although, with his enhanced vision, he could probably see a single particle of dust from over a hundred feet away.

 

“Here.” he said softly, pointing to a concept he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around. “I don’t understand this. I’ve been trying for hours but it just isn’t clicking.”

 

Jeno hummed in acknowledgement. After a few moments, his eyes flicked up, moving rapidly from left to right as he searched his database. He smiled, and Renjun guessed he’d found what he was looking for.

 

Jeno scooted closer, snatching Renjun’s pencil from him and sketching out the problem on a blank piece of paper. He paused, just for a moment, and then looked up at Renjun, his expression blank.

 

“You need to multiply by the conjugate.” he said flatly.

 

Renjun’s jaw dropped. “That’s all?!”

 

Jeno gave him a weak smile. “It’s easy to miss.” he offered. “The reason you’re not getting it right is just because you missed one step. The rest of your work is correct. So now you know.”

 

Renjun groaned. “I’ve been working on this for hours!” he exclaimed, and then pouted, leaving his dignity temporarily in the dust. “Why didn’t you come help me earlier?”

 

“I did.” Jeno said. “When I offered to help, you told me to, as I recall, ‘get the fuck out of your room.’”

 

Renjun stared in shock at him. He’d never once heard a robot curse before, if he didn’t count in the movies. It turned out that robots were really good actors—much better than humans, at least.

 

And then he felt it. The laugh, bubbling up from his throat, and then suddenly he was clutching at his stomach as he doubled over, his cheeks turning red and his belly aching as he giggled uncontrollably.

 

Jeno looked concerned, placing a hand at the base of Renjun’s spine, and making a shiver flash through him.

 

“Are you alright? Should I get your mother? Or maybe an ambulance, yes.”

 

“No!” Renjun laughed. “No, I’m fine, I’m okay. I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

 

Jeno looked adorably confused.

 

“You’re so cute.” Renjun blurted out before he could stop himself. “For a robot, I mean.”

 

Jeno’s eyes widened. “Robots are supposed to be beautiful.” he said quietly. “Unless someone wants an ugly robot, but that doesn’t happen often. From my observation, human beings crave beautiful things.”

 

“People like perfection.” Renjun said quietly. “Perfect imitation without the scars or ugly experiences. They don’t care about real beauty.”

 

Jeno smiled softly. “I don’t believe anything is perfect.”

 

“Aren’t you?” Renjun asked.

 

Jeno just grimaced. “If you think this world, this city, is perfect, then I think you must be wrong. And I don’t think humans love perfection. From my experience, my database, they just want something better. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, in and of itself.”

 

Renjun scoffed. “Wise words from a robot.”

 

“Says the human who forgot to multiply by the conjugate.”

 

Renjun gaped, then threw his pen at him, hitting Jeno right in the forehead. “It was a mistake! I just forgot!”

 

Jeno smiled, his eyes curving into crescent moons, and for a second, Renjun forgot he was talking to a robot, a machine with synthetic pale honey skin and synthetic coffee brown eyes and synthetic freckles and moles that dotted his skin in the pattern of scattered constellations.

 

Renjun could like Jeno, even if he was a robot. He figured it was a lot like having a puppy, in the end, only with a more restricted range of emotions.

 

“Anyway,” Renjun began. “It doesn’t even matter, because I called you cute, not beautiful.”

 

Jeno cocked his head. “Cute?”

 

Renjun could already see Jeno’s eyes flicking back and forth as he searched his database, but Renjun stopped him, laughing.

 

“All these cute things are pretty.” Jeno said, and if Renjun was crazy, he might’ve thought that the slightest pout made an appearance on Jeno’s lips.

 

“Yes.” Renjun said, turning to his computer. “But cute is different. Cute, like, makes your heart swell in your chest. It makes you smile, like you’re stupid in love, except you're not.”

 

“What makes you smile like you’re stupid in love?” Jeno asked.

 

The question startled Renjun, and it took him a moment to recover.

 

Mark Lee made him smile like he was stupid in love.

 

“You’re blushing.” Jeno said, gesturing to Renjun’s cheeks.

 

Renjun glared at him. “No, I’m not.”

 

“Yes, you are. What are you thinking about?”

 

“I—uh, puppies?” Renjun stammered.

 

Jeno cocked his head to the side. “Do puppies usually make people blush?”

 

“Uhh…”

 

“I think cats are prettier.” Jeno said suddenly.

 

Renjun almost laughed again. “You’re a cat person? Or, uh, robot?”

 

Jeno’s eyes flitted up; he was searching through his database again. “Yes, if that’s what you call it. I prefer cats to dogs.”

 

“And why is that?” Renjun questioned.

 

Jeno grinned. “Cats are quiet and soft. They make me feel the same way you do.”

 

Renjun gulped. “How do I make you feel?”

 

“Content.” Jeno answered simply. “I know I am safe with you.”

 

Then he stood up, offering Renjun the plate of apple slices. “Do you want these? I thought you might be hungry. You’ve been working hard.”

 

Renjun nodded, taking the plate from Jeno, who walked out of his room, closing the door softly behind him. He brought an apple slice to his lips, then bit into it. Jeno had added a tinge of lime to keep them fresh, and bitter sensation flooded through Renjun’s mouth.

 

 

Thanks to Jeno’s help, Renjun was able to finish the rest of his homework before evening, sleep pulling at his eyelids as he padded out of his room in search of something to eat. Jeno was already standing in the kitchen, washing dishes. He smiled as Renjun took a seat at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. Renjun nodded, his stomach rumbling painfully.

 

Jeno already had a sandwich prepared, sliding it to Renjun on a plate. Renjun sighed appreciatingly, taking a large bite out of the tender bread.
“Is it good?” Jeno asked. “I made it but I can’t taste it. I looked up typical sandwich recipes and this was the most popular recipe.”

 

Renjun nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”

 

But Jeno was still staring at him, his eyes unnervingly dark. “How does it taste? What does it taste like, I mean?”

 

Renjun cocked his head to the side, confused. “I mean, it’s a peanut better and jelly sandwich, so… peanut butter and jelly? It’s, like, sweet and nutty at the same time.”

 

For some reason, Jeno still looked disappointed.

 

“Uhh.” Renjun stammered, desperately searching for something to say that a robot could relate to, understand. “It’s sort of warm, and cold at the same time, since you toasted the bread. Uh, it reminds me of when I was young. Mom would always make them for me for when I was done playing. So, like, I mean, it’s nice, thanks.”

 

Renjun’s cheeks were burning, but Jeno seemed satisfied, giving him a small smile. “I wish I could taste.” Jeno admitted. “Humans seem to have an interesting and strong connection to food.”

 

He looked Jeno up and down, and then continued. “Not you, though. You’re very skinny. Perhaps you should develop a deeper connection with human food?”

 

Renjun almost choked on his sandwich, but he was saved from the dignity of answering by the arrival of his parents. His mom clapped her hands together in joy as she noticed the two of them together, a bright smile on her face.

 

“Great! You’re both here.” she said. “Renjun, would you be a dear and take Jeno down to get groceries with you?”

 

Renjun gaped at her. “Now? And with him?”

 

Renjun didn’t really care if he went down to get groceries right then, but he definitely cared if Jeno was going with him. Recently, Renjun had discovered his joy of buying groceries for his family due to a certain Mark Lee who just so happened to work part-time at the grocery store down the street. Mark always let Renjun stand by him for a few minutes and chitchat, and god, did Renjun love a man in uniform. Even if it was the royal blue vest of the market.

 

“Mom, why? Can’t I just go by myself?” Renjun pleaded. Jeno shifted uncomfortably behind him.

 

His mom frowned at him. “I’d feel much safer if Jeno goes with you, Jun. Plus, it’d be good for him to see the place, and how we do things. That way you won’t have to go down there so much anymore.”

 

Renjun couldn’t find it within himself to tell her that he wanted to go down there because of a handsome senior boy with puppy-dog eyes and nice muscles. No, that wouldn’t be appropriate.

 

Renjun groaned, but looking at Jeno, he felt his resolve crumble. “Fine.” he muttered. “Let me get changed and we can go.”

 

 

Jeno was a surprisingly quiet companion, but his presence next to Renjun drew the skeptical eyes of passerby along the streets. Renjun didn’t blame them; Jeno was beautiful, even if he was a robot. His manufacturers had designed him so perfectly that Renjun sometimes found himself forgetting that Jeno was even a robot.

 

On the way, Renjun discovered that Jeno tended to ask a lot of questions. In the grocery store, he asked him how different products made him feel, what they reminded him of, what he saw in the dark red jelly of the strawberry jam. He suggested products based on reviews he pulled up on his database as well as what he thought Renjun would like, all the while with a bright, enthusiastic smile on his perfect, pretty face.

 

Renjun was almost having a good time before he saw him. He’d momentarily forgotten that Mark would be there, and seeing him at the cash register, their cart stocked up with everything Jeno had wanted to buy because for some reason Renjun just couldn’t refuse those wide puppy-dog eyes, made Renjun’s heart skip a beat, his cheeks burning, palms sweaty.

 

“Renjun!” Mark exclaimed, his eyes brightening as he caught sight of him and Jeno. “And your robot, nice.”

 

Renjun smiled weakly. “Jeno.”

 

Mark nodded, then smiled. “Yeah, Jeno.”

 

Mark cleared his throat. “Your parents make you come down with it?” he asked.

 

“Yeah.” Renjun said. “Mom said it makes her feel better about me going out alone.”

 

Mark chuckled. “You know, New Seoul is one of the safest cities in the world. You really don’t have much to worry about beside the stray rogue robot.”

 

Renjun frowned. “I mean, we’re from Old Beijing and that was different, but what did you say? Rogue robots?”

 

Mark shrugged, scanning the last item. “Haven’t you seen the news? People are reporting more robot malfunctions. Even weirder, they can’t find a correlation between the companies that sell them. They’re just… bugging out and people don’t know why.”

 

Renjun held his wrist over the chip scanner, transferring the due credits. “What kind of malfunctions?”

 

“Like, arguing with their owners. Not obeying commands. I even heard one robot attacked its owner.” Mark shuddered, eyeing Jeno. “Scary stuff. Take care of yourself, Jun. Your bot seems alright, but I wouldn’t but anything past it. You really can’t trust machines these days.”

 

Renjun shifted uncomfortably while Mark packed his groceries. “I didn’t realize you were so… anti-robot.”

 

Mark laughed dismissively. “I’m not. They’re useful, I know. But I also can’t deny that ultimately, they’re just machines. And all machines break, eventually.”

 

For some reason, Mark’s words settled oddly in the pit of Renjun’s stomach. He squirmed a bit, trying to relieve himself of the sensation.

 

“So do humans.” he muttered quietly.

 

“Huh?” Mark said, standing up.

 

“Nothing.” Renjun answered, shaking his head. Jeno was watching him with blank eyes, gaze flashing back and forth between him and Mark.

 

Mark shrugged. “Okay, well. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jun.” he said, smiling brightly at him. “Glad you stopped by.”

 

“Me too.” Renjun answered, his cheeks reddening. “See you, Mark.”

 

 

The walk back was silent; Jeno was carrying most of the groceries, which he’d insisted on since Renjun, as he claimed, was “small and would be crushed under the weight”. Renjun had glared at him, but let him take them anyway. There was no use in being stubborn with a robot.

 

“You like Mark Lee.” Jeno said suddenly. Renjun only gaped at him as he continued. "But you do not seem to like what he says."

 

“Uh, what? Excuse me?” Renjun stammered. “I mean, of course I like him. He’s my friend. And I agree with him, I think. At least, I thought I did...”

 

Jeno frowned. “But you act differently with him. You seem softer and nicer. You are not as nice to me. And you are really not nice to Jaemin.”

 

“That’s ‘cause Jaemin’s a little bitch.” Renjun muttered.

 

“But I thought he is your best friend?” Jeno questioned.

 

“Exactly. That’s how I know he deserves it.”

 

Jeno looked confused. It was just a little adorable.

 

“Okay.” he said finally. “That doesn’t make sense. But I think I am right about Mark Lee.”

 

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Okay, robot. Whatever you say.”

 

Jeno smiled at him, and for once, Renjun couldn’t find it in himself not to smile back.

 

He wondered if it was real, that smile. Jeno smiled in a way only the most beautiful people can, with dark, sparkling eyes in the shape of a waning moon, somehow more sincere than the preppy rich kids at Renjun’s school. Jeno seemed achingly human, and the fact that he wasn’t, that he was a machine which Mark said was only destined to break, seemed to hurt Renjun more than it should have.

 

Jeno was a machine, a product of humanity’s most desperate ambitions, an intellectual display of humanity’s power, and Renjun suddenly couldn’t tell what was real, and what was not.

Notes:

find me on twitter @ jenotation
cc is planetjeno

Notes:

Long story short this is set like at least half a century or more in the future, Jeno is a robot, Renjun is human and his family is rich so they live in the renovated city of New Seoul, and Renjun hates robots because they lowkey scare him :/ This chapter is kind of short but they'll definitely be longer in the future. Thank you for reading!
find me on twitter @jenotation